


Team Peralta

by goldensteps



Series: Team Peralta [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Parent(s), Other, Parent Jake Peralta, Parents Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Single Dad Jake Peralta, Slice of Life, and they are doing their best, lil hint of dianetti, the nine nine are a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:44:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensteps/pseuds/goldensteps
Summary: Something in her, without her permission, has decided it's time to be the adult. And she feels like a robot. No, scratch that, she doesn’t feel anything. She picks up the phone and calmly dials Gina’s number.“I need your help, please. My dad is freaking me the fuck out.”(amy is gone and everyone is dealing-but-not-dealing.)





	Team Peralta

The night following the worst day of Charlie Santiago-Peralta’s life, her dad loses his goddamn mind.

He’s never been the type to keep all his emotions in, never one for toxic masculinity and all that bullshit. She’s seen him cry before. He cried her first day of preschool, elementary school, middle school, freshman year, the time her appendix almost burst, the summer Iggy dragged her to a six week dance camp (the longest she’d ever been away from her parents), Grandpa Roger’s funeral. She knows her Dad isn’t a robot.

But this time is different.

Charlie herself doesn’t really let herself cry often, and especially not in front of pretty much anyone but him. A notorious bottle-it-upper. So when she does break down, adolescent hormones on a rampage, usually over something dumb like a shitty grade or not getting invited to a party, she always feels like the world is ending (thank you pms). Jake isn’t like that. He picks up the pieces and reminds her that it’s never as horrible as it seems. When he cries, it’s all mature and dignified and adult.

Except for right now. Because right now the world really is ending. It’s every bit as bad as it seems and worse.

It’s late when they get home from the wake. Her Dad hugs her and she’s completely still and he starts shaking and she doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to comfort him. She feels tiny and juvenile and young and stupid. Helpless. Numb. Like she’s dreaming. Like she’s watching this happen to someone else.

He lets go of her and wipes his nose. Runs a hand through his hair and starts tidying up. Compulsively straightening coasters and folding blankets.

She joins him and they spend hours cleaning because it means they don’t have to think. She considers turning on the T.V. for background noise, but quickly decides against it. Seeing a news story about the NYPD officer shot in the line of duty, a sergeant in line for Captain with a husband and daughter and bright beautiful future, would probably break both of them. 

So they work quietly, interrupting the silence only to ask “Where’s the Windex?” or “Do you think it’s too late to vacuum?” and by the time they’re done sweeping and mopping and dusting, scrubbing and disinfecting and windex-ing, the light from the sunrise is creeping across the kitchen table and the apartment looks fucking spotless. Just the way Amy liked it.

There’s an awkward pause, after he washes the last window and she dusts the last coffee table, wherein they both realize at the same time, _there’s nothing left to do. ___

____

____

And that’s when he loses his shit.

There’s no experience so heart wrenching and terrifying as seeing your father break down. 

Wails turn into screams turn into pounding the walls and she just stands there. Rooted to the spot. Frozen.

Something in her, without her permission, has decided it's time to be the adult. And she feels like a robot. No, scratch that, she doesn’t feel anything. She picks up the phone and calmly dials Gina’s number.

“I need your help, please. My dad is freaking me the fuck out.”

Charles gets there first and it’s the quietest Charlie’s ever seen her namesake. He drops to the floor and wordlessly puts an arm around Jake, and Jake stops pounding the walls, the wails becoming a kind of subdued sob. He wraps his arms around Boyle and holds on for dear life. He’s saying her mom’s name over and over. Charlie feels sick. 

She goes into the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face. Looks in the mirror and tries to pick out the parts of her that are more Santiago than Peralta. It’s harder than it should be.

When she reenters the kitchen her dad and Boyle are leaning against the wall and he’s weeping softly into his best friend’s shoulder, and Boyle gives her a helpless sort of look, brown eyes wide and sorrowful. 

She needs something to keep herself busy.

The fridge is stocked, because her mom went grocery shopping last Wednesday. For the last time, she realizes with a weird sort of punch. She’ll probably be in charge of that now. She gets out the bacon and eggs and gets to work.

Gina arrives bearing coffee and donuts and a forehead kiss for Charlie. She pulls her close and tucks her under her chin. Her auburn hair tickles Charlie’s nose, and Charlie can smell the vanilla body spray she and Iggy share. She appreciates the love but she can’t hug back right now. Gina gets that. They start assembling french toast. 

Holt shows up with Cheddar the dog. The apartment doesn’t technically allow animals, but no one mentions that. He puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“I find that in times of grief, it can be comforting to have something for which to care and take responsibility. Your father has that in you. Perhaps you may find that in Cheddar.”

She nods. He brushes her hair behind her ear, one of the most affectionate gestures her pseudo-grandpa has ever displayed. She suddenly feels like crying.

“I’m deeply sorry, Charlotte. Your mother was the best detective I’ve ever had the pleasure of mentoring. I miss her terribly.” 

His voice cracks and it’s all she can do to nod and turn away and choke down the lump in her throat. He understands. She watches as he walks over to the pile that is her father and Boyle, allowing himself to slide down the wall and put an arm around his grieving son. Jake lays his head on Holt’s shoulder, still weeping softly, and Charlie swears she sees a tear roll down the stoic man’s cheek.

There’s enough food to feed an army, but she isn’t hungry.

They pass out plates. Boyle, Holt, and Gina gather around the kitchen table while father and daughter stay seated on the floor. He’s mostly calmed down, but his eyes are still puffy and his nose is still red. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. She leans into his shoulder and he puts an arm around her and they nibble bacon in silence. After breakfast, Holt puts in Die Hard. Jake migrates from the floor to the recliner, and everyone watches together. The corner of every eye is on the Peraltas. Charlie excuses herself to go clean up.

She and Gina are elbows deep in dishwater when Rosa shows up and threatens her into getting some rest.

“You are going to lay down and shut your eyes and you will not open them until you’ve been asleep for at least three hours. Got it?”

Charlie shrugs and does as she’s told because there’s no arguing with her godmother, but exhaustion hasn’t caught up with her yet and sleep seems foreign. She methodically peels off her boots, changes into pajamas, and crosses the apartment to crawl into her parents’ bed. She can smell her mom’s perfume on the sheets. She stares at the ceiling, and when the tears do come they don’t erupt like Mount Jacob. They creep out of the corners of her eyes and drip into her ears, and suddenly her arms are concrete, far too heavy to lift and wipe them away. She wants her mom.

**\- o - ******

********

********

When she wakes up her eyes are all crusty and goopy and her dad is snoring across from her. His breath is warm on her face, and it smells sour and rank. His face and hair are a fucking wreck. By the looks of it he crashed atop the blankets, shoes still on.

She pads into the living room where Gina and Rosa are propped up against the couch, nestled into each other. Gina’s drooling on Rosa’s leather jacket and Rosa’s hair is clumped up on her head in a messy bun, black ringlets curling around her face. Cheddar’s resting on her thigh. He looks up when Charlie comes in, cocking his head to one side.

“Hey boy,” she says, and her throat feels scratchy and painful, like it’s been so long since she spoke her vocal cords forgot how. She kneels down to scratch behind his ears, careful not to wake Rosa or Gina. He plods along behind her, following her into her room.

She finally finds her phone amongst the piles of laundry and empty chip bags on her floor. It’s past five. She’s missed two calls and 13 texts from Enigma, Nikolaj, and the Jeffords sisters. Her phone is almost dead. She doesn’t unlock it, instead tossing it onto her bed and grabbing a hat.

Holt left a leash for Cheddar on the kitchen table. She gently clips it to his collar, pulls her Dad’s coat on over her pajamas and leaves, closing the front door as gently as possible.

She’s in a hurry to get out of the lobby before someone notices the Corgi she’s somewhat conspicuously trying to smuggle under her coat, and in her rush she bumps into Terry, almost knocking the casserole dish out of his hands.

“Whoa, Hey. Everything okay kid?”

She nods.

“Are you sure?”

She nods again.

“Make my Dad brush his teeth. Please.”

He gives her a quizzical half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and makes his way upstairs.

**\- o - ******

********

********

The January air is crisp and bitter and she wishes she had on jeans instead of pajama pants. Sad-looking wreaths adorn most of the doors, leftovers that haven’t been taken down yet. She tries not to think about the fact that Christmas won’t ever feel the same. Cheddar is fascinated by his new surroundings, so she walks him around the block and ignores the loss of feeling in her fingers.

**\- o - ******

********

********

When she gets back inside her dad’s hair is wet, he’s wearing fresh clothes, and he smells like aftershave (thank God for Terry Jeffords). He hugs her and makes a point of pressing his warm cheeks against her cold ones the way he used to do when she was little, when they’d get home from their special father-daughter field trips to Central Park. (Sometimes they’d meet Gina and Iggy there and devise plans for forts and snowball fights. Kids vs Adults, or Team Linetti vs Team Peralta.) They’d come home and Amy’d be grinning and waiting with hot chocolate just the way they liked it, with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. They’d all drink it together, sporting creamy mustaches, and he’d do a silly old man voice, or sing her a made up song about marshmallows and snowmen, and she and Mom would laugh until their cheeks hurt.

No song today.

The house smells like lasagna and there’s already a plate waiting for her, garlic bread and all. Dad kisses her forehead and lets her take it to her room where she finally braves the missed text messages.

Ava

**hey babe, we’re here for you. anything you need, okay? ******

********

********

Cagney

**Charlie, I’m so so sorry. If you ever need to talk, your honorary big sisters are listening. We love you. ******

********

********

Lacey

**charls. sweetpea. you know i adore you. let me know if there’s anything i can do, okay? ♥️ ******

********

********

Nikolaj

**Hey Charlie, I know it’s been a minute but I’m here for you. Dad’s on his way. Let me know if you need to get out or anything, we can hit up Sal’s and talk. Or not talk. Whichever you want. Love ya kid. ******

********

********

iggs

**charlie. ******

********

********

**i wish i knew what to say. ******

********

********

**i know you probably aren’t in the mood to talk. you don’t have to. i’m just gonna ramble, and it’s okay if you don’t respond. okay? ******

********

********

**i just want you to know that you’re my very best friend. i’d give anything to take this pain from you ******

********

********

**look, i know it’s not the same, but i get it. on some level. and i’m here. ******

********

********

**just realizing how insensitive that sounded ******

********

********

**here as in here for you. i wish i was in new york. i wish my dad weren’t such a selfish dick. ******

********

********

**i didn’t mean it like that. ******

********

********

**i’m sorry i keep fucking up the words. ******

********

********

**charlie, i just wish so badly i could fix this for you. i love you. so so much. ******

********

********

**you are the most wonderful person i know. and i hate that you’re hurting. ******

********

********

**it isn’t fucking fair. you deserve the world. ******

********

********

Charlie presses call. Iggy answers on the first ring.

“Hi”

“Hi”

They listen to each other breathe

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer you.”

“It’s okay. It’s more than okay. Are you okay?”

“...”

“Charlie?”

“I’m… I dunno. Not me right now.”

“Oh god, what a stupid question. Of course you’re not. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

and then

“Thank you for all the texts.”

“I suck at comfort. I’m sorry I blew up your phone.”

“You’re alright. It showed you cared.”

“I care more about you than anyone.”

They are never this open, this candid. It feels wrong.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, too bad. I like your stepsister better,” Charlie deadpans.

Iggy cracks up.

“Oh god, Ferrari? She just got these like, Godawful highlights. Stepmonster hit the roof.”

A smile plays at the corners of Charlie’s mouth.

“Yeah?”

**\- o - ******

********

********

She doesn’t remember falling asleep again, but she wakes up to her Dad tucking her in and smoothing her hair back. She looks at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey bean.”

He sits next to her bed, and she can see in his eyes that he’s more together, more himself, than he’s been all day. She’d be lying if she said she weren’t relieved

“Listen. I’m sorry about today. And all of it.”

“It’s okay Dad. I get it.”

He shakes his head

“No. I mean. When my dad left, your grandma didn’t take it well. And… I know what it’s like to see a parent cry. I know how hard that is.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying not to start again.

“I just. You weren’t supposed to have to go through this. You were supposed to have both parents.”

She worms an arm out from under the covers and takes his hand. He smiles at her through watery eyes and they take in the stillness together. The house feels weirdly empty now that the Nine-Nine’s gone.

Charlie breaks the silence.

“Do you think I look like her?” 

He studies her carefully.

“I mean. I know I’m more you. Everyone says I’m your twin. But, do I? Even a little?”

He scans her face and thinks for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“When you’re super focused on something,” He says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “When you’re stressed out. When you laugh. When you roll your eyes.”

She smiles.

“And that. Right there. You have her exact smile.”

Charlie’s vision goes blurry. She sniffles and tries to contain the wobble in her voice.

“What are we gonna do.”

A tear streams down her cheek, and he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“Hey, hey, we’ll get through this. We’re a team, remember?”

She laughs thickly

“Yeah. Team Peralta.”

“Team Peralta.” 

He kisses her on the nose 

“Do you want a hot chocolate?”

She nods.

**Author's Note:**

> this story has been in the works since march and it means a lot to me. special thanks to @wydblaise and @nevermindthewind for all the help <3
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading. let me know what you thought! comments or kudos make my whole day!


End file.
